Morning
a bra lays by the side
of the road as I drive
pastdirty pink cups
straps
askew, still
perked straight up but
carelessover broken glass, and I
must ask myself why she took it off
who convinced her that she
should, or was it her idea, did it
get her what she wanted
won’t she need it
once she
wakes but also, how
did we all get to where we
are
right now, this place, and
will weever find the thing that has been lost?